


Symmetry

by Gleennui



Category: Glee
Genre: Blow Jobs, Facials, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel loves symmetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a drabble, folks, born of a conversation about how Kurt might reconcile a facial fetish with his love of order.

Kurt Hummel loves symmetry. 

Oh, sure, asymmetrical lines look great when they’re on the hemline of a sweater or a colorblocked messenger bag, but fashion is fashion, and Kurt’s always been one to sacrifice his personal comfort for a great outfit. 

Otherwise, symmetry--well--it’s just about Kurt’s favorite thing. He loves when his pillow shams line up perfectly and when the flip of his hair falls in the center of his hairline. It makes him feel peaceful and safe--sometimes the only place he can find order in his chaotic world. 

And, yeah, he looks for symmetry wherever he can find it. Like how Finn’s hipbones curve softly out to form identical little channels leading down between his legs. Kurt likes to spend the same amount of time on each one, getting them equally wet and equally bruised, with matching teeth marks on each side. Or how, when Finn pulls up hard and tight to his belly, Kurt can tease his finger, featherlight, along the underside, knowing he’s hit the exact center. 

He likes that. Almost as much as he likes the way Finn grips the back of his head when Kurt sinks his mouth down around him--curling his tongue along each side in turn and humming around Finn to keep track of each rotation. Finn’s hands always--always--clutch with even pressure even through his desperation. 

What he can’t figure out is whether Finn--beautiful, sloppy, uncoordinated Finn--knows that he moans in perfect staccato, the noise thrumming through Kurt like a metronome down to where he rolls his hips into the “V” of Finn’s spread legs, his knees lined up with the toes of Finn’s red Chucks. But he does--oh God, he does--and it makes Kurt slide his mouth a little faster and hum a little louder.

And when he feels Finn’s thighs tense--the muscles rippling in tandem--Kurt always pulls back, stroking with one practiced hand, and then the other. This is their favorite part--the thing that makes Kurt have to press frantically against himself with the heel of his palm before he ruins his custom-made cigarette pants. Finn jerks up into Kurt’s fist, and Kurt loves that, too: how Finn manages not to break Kurt’s rhythm, no matter quickly his eyes flit, half-drunk in anticipation, over Kurt’s flushed cheeks. And then Finn’s letting go, letting Kurt pull his release from him, and Kurt angles his face and it’s perfect, like it is every time. Kurt can feel the result of his practiced aim as his right cheekbone is coated quickly and obscenely. Kurt turns his face the other way and flicks his wrist, watching his hand through hazy eyes as he makes his left cheekbone match, Finn gasping through it all. 

Pretty, Finn always calls him afterward. Pretty with Finn all over his face and sliding down his cheeks, filthy and flushed and making him want and even. Matching. 

Perfect.


End file.
